Less Than Perfect
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Leia's feeling a little uncertain about how she looks after a long stretch of maternity leave.


_a/n: Han's so sweet*_

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 ** _Less Than Perfect_**

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Despite having been rather tomboyish for most of her youth, Leia had always harbored an appreciation for the process of _getting ready_ for a social event. The step-by-step process that she'd learned from her mother, her maids, and other matrons in the Organa household was ritualistic in a soothing way, and in the years after Alderaan was lost, it was time to herself that could be cherished. During the war, having a stretch of time to relax and attend to her appearance was a strangely vain respite, and in the aftermath of the Empire's defeat, it reminded her fondly of home.

Leia's particular routine had always consisted of refraining from putting her gown on until the very last minute, thus she spent an hour and a half or so fixing her make-up and hair while clad in a robe with nothing underneath. She generally chose her undergarments according to her gown, and then touched up her powder and perfume in front of a mirror before donning the dress.

This time, however – getting ready for _this_ event, she found, was different; and she felt off-kilter. It was nothing overtly significant; merely a fundraising function for someone in Mon Mothma's post-Galactic Civil War political faction – so it wasn't the event itself that left a slight frown on her face, and ignited her with nervousness, rather than calm throughout, her entire process.

No, it wasn't the event; it was that it was her first public event since she'd taken an extremely private and lengthy maternity leave, a choice which had chagrined the leadership and left her feeling a little unsure of herself, physically and mentally, when it came to placing herself back in the spotlight.

She'd experienced a distinct inability to relax while she got ready, despite the fact that Han was home and perfectly capable of handling the baby while she shut herself in their master bedroom. It didn't matter; her constant need to check on why he was crying, or why Han was laughing – had she missed something? – tacked nearly two hours onto her time, and she found herself rushing towards the end.

 _Rushing_ around, tucking hair back into its neat braid, re-touching mascara, dabbing on lipstick that had been mussed when she paused for a moment to feed Ben, forgot she had a full face of make-up on, and kissed his forehead – leaving a gaudy, bright red imprint.

Her ritual came to a crashing halt when she was standing in front of the mirror, dark red dress thrown over the bed behind her, neatly pressed and ready to go, and she was distracted by the way she looked in the modest black-and-white lingerie set she'd chosen.

The size still fit, technically – yet why the hell was she so –

Leia tilted her head and ran her hand over her abdomen, plucking at streaks red-pink skin with her nails. She pinched at it and winced, frowning, and then pressed her fingers into the extra mass – she had been home with herself, and Han, for weeks, and she hadn't noticed that she looked –

"Hey, Sweetheart," Han's voice burst into the room, smug and amused. "Look."

She didn't turn towards him right away; she was busy frowning at her reflection, but as she heard him move closer, she lifted her head – and paused, debating whether to laugh or reprimand him.

He was holding Ben up in front of him so she could only see the baby, and he'd put a set of goggles on his face – the sort he used on the _Falcon_ when he was working with the electrical systems. Ben kicked his feet, making some noise that resembled laughter – and Leia, attuning herself to his emotions for a moment, identified it as happiness.

Han peeked around the baby to gauge Leia's reaction.

"Those better be clean," she murmured, arching a brow.

"They're as clean as Ben is," Han retorted smartly.

Leia shook her head, smiling vaguely. She turned back to the mirror and ran her palm over her upper thigh, tugging at the edge of her panties. Han switched Ben to his arm, holding him against his chest, letting Ben clutch at his arm and tilt his head around.

"Han," Leia mumbled, tilting her head back and forth. "Do I look okay?"

Han strolled closer, glancing her over once before turning his attention back to the baby. He took the goggles off Ben and chucked them on the bed – Ben threw his head back and looked at Han grumpily. Han grinned at him. He nodded without looking.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"You didn't look," Leia snapped, agitated.

Han arched his brows, taken aback, and then made a point of focusing on her intently, for a good, long stretch of time.

"Yes," he said, articulating pointedly. "You look fine." He paused for a moment, and shifted Ben to the other arm, tilting his head curiously. "You plannin' on making your debut half-naked?" he asked dryly.

Leia shook her head, frowning. She acted like she hadn't heard him and then straightened up, gesturing over her middle, smacking one hand against her thigh.

"I look – unkempt," she decided narrowly. She pressed a hand felt to her stomach and drew in a deep breath, holding it for a moment. "I didn't notice I'd gained this much weight."

Han blinked warily. He shared a silent look with Ben and then cleared his throat.

"Leia," he said shortly, pointing at their son. "You had a baby."

"I know," she muttered.

She put a hand to her forehead, and then turned to snatch the gown off the bed, shaking it from the hanger.

"I don't even want to see what this looks like on me," she muttered to herself.

Han frowned, watching her maneuver the dress. It was a simple style, easy for her to step into, shimmy up to her shoulders, and then shrug her arms into – floor-length, as was Leia's usual style, and draping off the shoulders, bare in the back so her braid would contrast against her skin instead of the material of the gown.

She turned back to examine the effect and put both hands on her hips. Han shifted closer.

"I don't see a difference," he said flatly.

Leia gave him the most withering look he'd ever seen in this life, but he shrugged, refusing to quail.

"I don't see anything I don't _like_ , Leia," he said seriously.

"You," she murmured under her breath, "are not the rest of the galaxy."

"Well," Han said sharply, "do you want me and Ben to go with you so they all remember why you've been absent?" he demanded. He held out Ben a little. "You had a _baby_."

"Fifteen weeks ago," Leia retorted sourly.

Han narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, so? What were you supposed to do in the meantime, hand him off to a nanny and see a physical trainer?"

Leia stopped looking at herself, and turned her face up to Han's, looking from Ben to her husband. She'd spent the past three and a half months at home with them, apart from the times when Han left in spurts to satisfy military duties. She hadn't worried about anything but learning how to take care of Ben and getting comfortable with him and resting, and Han – certainly had a point; she wouldn't have traded that time for the sake of physical vanity.

"No," she agreed.

She'd never been one to be very concerned about her appearance before, but then – perhaps that was because she had always had the privilege of being what humans conventionally considered thin. She felt suddenly slapped with what it might be like to be subjected to the sort of ridicule some women were, and while she didn't think herself to be particularly soft-skinned, it might – bother her.

She glanced at Han through her lashes, and Han nodded curtly, as if to reinforce his words, and hers. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek lightly, holding Ben away from her so he didn't grab her hair or do any make-up damage. He paused a moment to look her over, and smiled.

"You look gorgeous, Your Worship," he said sincerely. His expression darkened. "I hear anyone tell you otherwise, and I'll kill them."

"That's an _incredibly_ extreme reaction, Han," Leia said faintly, her cheeks flushing – at the compliment, and at his intensity.

"So's actin' like a woman's supposed to look like this," he held up his pinky finger, "after this happens," he pointed it at Ben. "He lived in you," Han said dramatically, "and you're _tiny_."

Leia laughed, her eyes stinging slightly.

"Stop," she said softly. "You're making me blush," she feigned a swoon, and Han grinned; happy he'd cheered her up.

Leia bit her lip, and shook her head, looking at him intently.

"You know, it amazes me that despite having never had formal schooling, you're smarter than nearly all the men I ever knew in academics," she said gently, every note of her tone a sincere compliant.

Han put one hand to his head.

"I got common sense, Sweetheart," he said bluntly. He gave her another once-over, and then pretended to share a look with Ben. "I didn't marry her based on looks, anyway, did I?" He asked pointedly.

He turned back to Leia and tilted his head, admiring the dress. As it were, he'd always thought she looked good in red; it was such a stark opposite to white, and she gave off an incredibly dangerous vibe when clothed in a scarlet hue.

Leia sighed. She turned towards him and smoothed her hands over the fabric at her hips, fingers splayed.

"You don't think I look – ah, sort of," she tried to find the words. "Frumpy?"

Han tried not to laugh at the word choice – both because it was an absurd way to describe her, and because it was so not the sort of word that usually populated her lexicon. He shook his head, grinning.

"Leia," he said seriously, stepping closer. "Leia, c'mon," he coaxed, shifting Ben from one arm to the other again. "You look good," he said, a hoarse edge to his voice. He gave her a wry smirk. "I'll show you how good when you get home, eh?"

Leia reached out to smooth back Ben's sparse down of hair and smiled, breathing out slowly. She looked at him through her lashes and smiled warmly, relieved, and went about shaking off the shock of low self-esteem. Han slid his fingers into her braid carefully and kissed her brow, thinking to himself that he really would be tempted to kill anyone who ever made her feel slightly less than perfect about herself.

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 _*I write him sweet, though, so is this a tautology?_

 _-Alexandra  
Story #321_


End file.
